Bugging
by Nemisor
Summary: A man is on a quest to find a new kind of beetle. He is also haunted by an ancient priest, which is a bit of an annoyance, to be honest.


A/N: So here we are. The last round. Wow. Who thought I'd be here. I certainly didn't, but I am glad that I am. The pairing was... hard. It was hard to find a contact point between these two. But I also had a ton of fun writing this, and I found that I feel a connection with Insector Haga. Who knew. (well, yes I have a tendency to try to portray a lot of eh, antagonist-type people in softer light, so I guess that was to be expected).

Anyway, thank you everyone who has stuck around in this for this long. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

 **Bugging**

The night was dark, and had arrived to the scene with one great swing, like someone had thrown a blanket dotted with stars over the world. It was also heavy with warmth and the sound of insects, who had come out after the scorching sun had gone; to feed and to mate. Even though humans slept during a night like this, pitch black, the night was far from dead.

Not every human slept. There was a house at the edge of desert and inside a light still burnt, drawing moths towards it. They slammed their heads against the window glasses, making a soft beat to the music of the night. Some found their way in, and made their way towards their prize; a sun so close.

Inside the house was a room and in that room: a man. He paid little mind to the sharp popping sounds of moths burning their wings on his lamp. He was hunched over a desk, sweat glistening on his skin, his glasses slipping along his nose and almost off them. He was too focused on his work to do correct their position

He was holding a pair of tweezers and along the desk a bunch of other instruments were strewn in a neat little row. In front of him, laying on a small dish made of glass was a bug he was dissecting. Every now and then, with his free hand the man would take up a pen and scribble a note or two on the papers beside him without even looking at the paper. As such the paper was full of barely comprehensible words that overlapped each other at every which turn.

The locals knew him as the insect-guy. It was not far off what he had always been called. It was more than likely that even his own mother had called him "My son. You know? The insect guy?" at least at some point. Insector Haga didn't mind, why mind something that wasn't wrong.

Once he had been the champion of Japan at a card game. It mattered not anymore. He still played, still had friends who played, but how fortunate of him to do the things he liked.

Insector Haga had went to a university, studied biology and started studying insects. Or continued studying insects, now with more funding and certification papers. He was in his mid-twenties, and had already discovered few new species that had made him famous, at least among people who happened to be really into insects.

There was still much left of that bratty teen that had claimed the title of Japan's champion at the age of 14. He had not been exactly a nice person to be around back then, and still wasn't, which was why he spent most of his time among his research.

He didn't even remember what had brought him to Egypt in the first place, but he knew that his article on the differences of innards between two types of beetles would surely be well-received. Secretly he hoped to find an anomaly, another new species he could get to claim as his own, but so far he had been out of luck.

His glasses finally slipped from his nose, tangling by one ear, lopsided, leaving the whole world a blurry mess. Insector Haga cursed to himself, but finally set both his tweezers and pen down, corrected the position of his glasses, got up and stretched.

The house he lived in was rather roomy for one person, but it had been cheap. Besides Haga had the worst habit of collecting everything bugs-related. Every surface was stacked with books and articles, their pages colored like rainbows with bookmarks on interesting parts. There were drawings of insects, some more artistic than others, some merely sketches Haga himself had made. There was of course a ton of specimens, various insects in various states of being dissected. There were glass bottles filled with the things, bugs and bug partspreserved in clear foul-smelling liquid. Most of them were natives of Egypt, but Haga had brought part of his own collection with him as well, for comparison's sake.

Then there was the memorabilia. Haga was a hoarder, he made no qualms about it. And Egyptians had had an interesting relationship with their insects, particularly the scarab, who originally rolled the sun out of the sea. There was a lot of trinkets made out of the bug, mostly meant for hopeless tourists who wished some exotic thing to bring to home with them. Haga himself really didn't care that most of the memorabilia looked very cheap, he just liked owning them.

All that toppled with dirty dishes, empty coffee mugs or half-drunk water bottles and dirty clothes on almost every surface, and you got a home of sorts.

Haga wandered around his room, rubbing his shoulder which had started to ache from the hours of working in the same position. The fingers of his other hand absent-mindedly tapped upon the various books and items strewn about the room. It was too hot in this house, but it was no use going out since it was going to be ever warmer there. So he continued to pace along his room, tapping a rhythm against the covers of books. His fingers met something metallic, and Haga picked it up to inspect it.

It was a necklace, simple and small, a band of worn copper with a tiny scarab hanging from it. It looked cheap and had been very cheap. The seller had smiled knowingly, told Haga that his girlfriend was sure to love a necklace such as this. Haga had felt no need to correct that he had no girlfriend, and was only buying it because the little scarab and the thought of owning it pleased him.

Haga took the necklace, wrapping the chain around his fingers, until only the scarab pendant hung a little loose.

He was returning back to his desk, when there was a knock on the door. That made him stop on his track, and give a curious glance at the clock on the wall. It was showing almost three, and the last Haga had checked it was night.

He had very little friends in Egypt; and most of his acquaintances were working at the local university, situated on the other side of town. His house was quite a bit from the town's center so it was unlikely anyone would have just wandered to his place unless they came from the desert. And he certainly wasn't expecting anyone.

The knock came again, louder this time.

Haga marched to the door, considered briefly just swinging it open with force, but decided against it, since this could have been a robbery and he could have been just walking into the most stupid trap ever. So he put the safety chain on, opened the door slightly and peered at the knocker.

It was a man, an Egyptian by the looks of it. In the halo of the lamp above the door, the man's features were sharpened like the bone was jutting through the skin, and his clothes of natural white had a faint glow. There was something vaguely familiar about the man, Haga couldn't place, like this was a man he had seen somewhere before. Not the exact man, but someone almost identical.

Haga did not know this man, and by the unimpressive stare the man was giving him, neither did he him.

The man's clothing now drew more of Haga's attention. The men in Egypt had a preference for loose white clothing, they had a name, but Haga had not bothered to learn it and he had not changed his own garb to suit the local climate. But these clothes were different. The material was rougher, clearly not machine made. And there was the question of the strange hat the man was wearing, and the heavy golden jewelry decorating his figure.

Haga narrowed his eyes, and wondered what the Egyptian equivalent of a Renaissance Fair was, since they were clearly missing a person.

Haga was about to slam the doors to the man's face. He didn't need any cosplayers at his house, not at this hour, not at any hour. Then the man looked at him, his eyes were blue and steely and somehow very very deep. They were eyes of ancients.

Insector Haga was not a brave man. He had never been. He had preferred to secure an upper hand each time he even attempted to battle. Under the gaze of those eyes, he found himself grasping on the necklace still laced around his fingers.

"Let me in," the man said, and in a tone of voice that made it clear that he was used to commanding and being obeyed.

Haga found himself opening the door.

"Who are you? Where is Remnes?" The man asked, and for a brief moment he appeared lost as he looked at Haga. It was enough of a crack to let Haga gain some confidence.

"I could ask the same about you," Haga said. "And I have not heard of anyone by the name of Remnes. I've been renting this house for myself for half a year, you're out of luck."

A frown appeared to the man's forehead, and he strode in, past Haga, which was not a hard thing to accomplish, since the man was positively towering and Haga had barely grown since he had been 14. The growth spurt he had so waited for just never materialized.

The man disappeared into the house, and Haga cursed the fact that he didn't have his cell phone in his pocket, because he really needed to call the police to get this costumed freak out of his house. Perhaps he would leave after he had realized that this Remnes fellow was not here and perhaps he could leave without touching any of Haga's equipment. But then, perhaps not.

Haga slipped the copper necklace from his hands into his empty pocket, squared his shoulders, and tried to make himself look taller than he really was, which even then probably would be more than a head less than the stranger in his house. It wasn't about actual height, it was about feeling tall. Trying to do so, and slightly puffing out his chest, just in case, Haga followed the stranger into the living room.

The man was standing in the middle of the room, looking completely baffled. His eyes were darting about the room, landing on one thing and then another, but not staying on one thing for long. Then he noticed Haga, who had tried to sneak past the man to get the cellphone on his desk.

"You," the man said. "Tell me who you are and where I am?"

"Not again," Haga complained. "Listen here, you seemed to know full well where you were when you came knocking on my door."

"I thought I did, the house is different but it is on the same place. But this looks strange."

Haga rolled his eyes and edged a bit closer to the desk.

"Answer me," the man demanded.

Haga was starting to get annoyed. The man had not smelled like alcohol and he didn't look like he had taken anything that he shouldn't have, but clearly there were few bolts loose in this man's head. And of all the houses, he just had to come here.

It looked like he was not the only person who was pissed off about the situation, since the man had folded his arms and was glaring at Haga.

"Fine," Haga said. "You tell me your name first, and what you thought you'd be doing in this house and we can figure out a way for you to get where you want to go."

The man frowned again, seemed to be a permanent thing with him, but he finally spoke:

"I am priest Set of the Kingdom of Egypt and I came here to look for Remnes for I woke up in the desert and this was the closest house of a friend I could see."

"Aha. A real priest then," Haga said, stretching his words out, never breaking his eye contact with the strange man as he tip-toed another step closer to the desk. "Funny thing, the last time I checked Egypt was a republic. Did you ever mention which god might you be priest to?"

"Shouldn't that much be obvious? Seth, the god of deserts and storm."

"Aha." Another tentative step, Set might not have noticed.

"And you are?"

"I'm... Haga. I hail from, nevermind, a kingdom far from here, or something. You probably have not heard about it. I uh, work with the University of Cairo, which you might also not know because... Haa!"

Haga leaped towards his desk and scrambled for his phone. Set was by him immediately, trying to catch the phone as well, although as soon as his hands touched Haga's arm, it went through it, causing goosebumps to rise on Haga's arm and a chill to go through him.

They froze, both staring at Set's hand, very solid looking by all regards, stuck through Haga's also very solid arm.

"Not a time traveller then," Haga said weakly.

* * *

"I wish you'd go haunt somewhere else," Haga muttered under his breath, though apparently the priest heard because a snappy response followed: "Would if I could."

Haga made no response. He had returned to his work with the bugs, but the peace and quiet of his house was completely broken, as was his concentration. He stole a glance at his cell phone still at the desk, but decided against it. This was the fifth time he had argued with himself about calling the police. They might not even be able to see this ancient priest stuck in his house, and then it would just be confirmation that Haga was losing his mind. A confirmation he could do without for the moment at least.

And indeed, it seemed that priest Set was stuck. Perhaps it was because Haga had let him in the house, or perhaps whatever had sent him to be a thorn at Haga's side had had just Haga in mind for some reason. Whatever it was it seemed that Set was unable to leave the house as if some kind of invisible dome had been put upon the house, and now they were both stuck here waiting for Set to pass on.

Haga, who was no physicist, could not even begin to explain what Set was and what he was doing here. He kindof regretted not taking those courses when he had had the chance. Maybe he could explain what black hole had brought a time-travelling ghost here and how he could get rid of it.

The funniest part was that Set insisted that he was very much alive. Or had been when he had been transported here. He had gone to sleep and woken up in the desert, with the lights in Haga's house's window to guide him. Perhaps this was the case, or perhaps Egypt had lost a priest to an assassin's dagger that night.

He would have to look it up. The knowledge would give him some pleasure in this awful situation.

Priest Set, coming from a time when people probably didn't even wipe their asses after having taken a shit, had resorted to claiming it was magic that had brought him here, and then complaining that his own magic wand or whatever was at home. Haga had rolled his eyes, and returned to his work, while Set had started to go through his belongings in hopes that he could find whatever had brought him here. Something of great magical energy or something.

Apparently Set could touch things with no problem. Only with living things he started to go through.

It was really hard to concentrate when there were sounds of stuff, Haga's stuff, being thrown about and very disappointed sounds of someone who had encountered far too many dirty underwear and not nearly enough answers in his short search.

Haga tried to think about himself stabbing the priest when he was asleep. It made him feel a bit better. His other hand started to make a note about the inside of the insects shell on the papers next to him, when an old shirt stained with coffee, thrown with far too much force landed on that hand, causing an A to continue all the way to few rows below it.

Haga put the pen down and shook the shirt off.

He turned to glare daggers at Priest Set, who wasn't looking any happier than he was.

"I am trying to actually do something here," Haga pointed out, and fought the urge to tell the priest to piss off.

"Not anything that would help me get out of here any faster," Set said.

"As I said before, I can't do anything about that short of calling an exorcist, and I don't know where I'd get one at this hour," Haga turned his back to Set again. This was the reason he preferred to be alone. "And you wouldn't like it anyway."

"Thank you for concerning yourself with my feelings," said Set, behind his back, in a voice that clearly indicated that those words did not in fact come straight from the heart, except maybe if that heart was black and bitter.

The silence reigned for a moment longer, with Haga returning to dissecting the insect. Set had given up on throwing stuff for the moment, but Haga could feel him moving behind him; silently pacing the floor like a very impatient case of poltergeist.

"You have quite a collection of scarabs," came a statement.

Haga rubbed his temples with his free hands. So now was time for a conversation then? Perhaps Set had decided to behave in case he could get something out of Haga. It was not like Haga was holding anything back, save a few swear words. He was just as confused as the priest, and he didn't even have magic to fall back on as an explanation, just vague recollections of multiverse theories and black holes.

Haga spun around in his chair, his other hand still holding a pair of tweezers.

"Yes. I have. I study insects."

"They are holy beings in my time," Set said.

"I know. That is why they made so many of them these days."

"Hmm."

There was no continuation of conversation. Haga was about to spin back to his work, when he noticed a movement on the floor. Set had noticed it too. A beetle, its back the sort of black that shines green in the light was making its way across the floor, clearly not noticing either of them.

"Don't kill it," Haga said automatically. It was not like Set could even kill it, but that was his automated reaction to situations like these when there was another person present. Too many times the other person just stepped on the creature, before Haga could even see what species it was. And sometimes there was an asshole who would kill it even after Haga had told them not to. Those people were the worst, and not even only because it brought back memories from when Haga had been little and the other kids from his school had made sure to kill the insects as cruelly as possible whenever Haga was present.

There was certainly nothing wrong with killing insects such as it was, if they were a bother or if one could get something out of them. But needless killing seemed rather pointless. And many seemed to take delight in killing the beings precisely because they had been told not to.

Haga hurried to find a container and scooped the beetle up and into it. Set followed his fussing what could only be described as mild interest. Haga put the container on his table, with the beetle scrambling to hold onto the plastic walls of it. Haga took his lamp, opened the container a bit and spent a moment in silent contemplation as he examined the bug. It seemed to be of very common variety, so he took the container with him to the window and let the insect out.

"It wasn't worth my time," he said to Set, even though he had not asked for an explanation.

"I can't see why any insect would be worth anyone's time," Set answered.

Haga let out a sigh. Ah, one of those conversations.

"No, I suppose you couldn't. But I haven't asked you to."

"In my time, we have developed magic that gives us the chance to take a person's ka," Set fumbled for a word. "Soul, and seal it away. It often takes its form as a beast of some sort."

Haga scoffed. He wasn't particularly impressed by Set's talk of magic as he had been unable to do any of it himself, if one didn't count that time he stuck his hand through Haga's arm, but that was standard ghost practice.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I think I know what kind of a soul you would have if it was taken from your body. An insect."

Haga pondered about this for a while.

"Are you saying that as an insult?"

"Perhaps," Set said with a shrug.

"Then you clearly don't know a thing about insects."

"But I know things about people who have insect-souls. They are petty, criminals more often than not. Some of them flock together into small raiding parties, and some cling to stronger people like eels. But they are weak and they are easy to crush."

"They are easy to crush, only because you overestimate your own power," Haga answered with a shrug. "Do you seriously think you could say anything to me that I haven't heard before? Even if the added magical mumbo-jumbo is certainly something, it's only an added flavor. I know myself, I know that I am the bug-guy, or have a soul of an insect. Certainly I feel more camaraderie to many insects than to many humans, so I wonder who the petty one here is." Haga paused. "There are more insects than people in the world, by a large number. And certainly they are easy to kill thoughtlessly or with malicious intent. But then again, so are humans. A mosquito can give a disease to a human without the human even noticing and it can be just as deadly as you stepping on a bug. And the thing about bugs is that no matter how many you kill you won't kill out all of them. So I show a little compassion, even if it doesn't matter, because I happen to like them. And besides, wasn't it your people that believed that the scarab was the one who created the sun?"

Set pursed his lips, but said nothing, just observed Haga with those cold eyes.

"Do you seriously think you can teach me anything about myself that I do not already know?" Haga asked. He was riled up, he knew it. But had this happened years ago, to a younger more insecure Haga who was terrified of losing and who had no friends because he spent his days knee deep in ponds trying to catch insects, he wouldn't have been angry. He would have been devastated. He had been devastated. But now, if this was the purpose of this haunting or whatever, it had ceased to be fun, but it was not like it could sting anymore. He knew himself better than that, he wish other people would realize that as well.

Set shrugged his shoulders.

"Clearly not."

"Then let's get you out of here."

Set smiled, a rather cat-like smile. Another one of those holy animals.

* * *

There were plenty of conceptions about insects. That they were dirty and dangerous and ugly. But also hard-working. Busy as a bee. Some cultures considered ants the epitome of working hard. There were lazy bugs as well, such as the story of the ants and the grasshopper who didn't prepare for the winter.

Insector Haga was lazy on many parts of his life, mostly about laundry. Most of his focus was taken by insects. But now this same focus was turned on getting rid of this ghost before there were any more pokes at his armor. He suspected this had been Set's plan once he had realized that there was no magic in Haga's house, annoy him until he started helping. Well it had worked.

There was only one place to go when you had a problem like a ghost. The Internet.

Haga kept his laptop at his bedroom, mostly because there was no room for it in the living room. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed and had opened up Google. Set was hovering (though not literally yet, thank god) beside him.

After a brief consideration Haga typed "i have an ancient egyptian ghost in my house i need to send back" and hit enter. What appeared was a lot of sites about Ancient Egyptian ghosts. He read a bit of the article that first popped up.

"So it says here you should be here to avenge your own murder," he said. "Although you seem to have overshot by few thousands of years."

"I already said I have not died," Set answered.

Haga shrugged and closed the tab. Well, it probably didn't matter where the ghost came from any case. So he typed just "I have a ghost in my house". Luckily that seemed to yield some concrete results. Such as a WikiHow page on ghost removal.

The first thing it suggested was talking firmly to the ghost and asking it to leave. Considering how many times Haga had asked Set to leave and how desperately Set had looked like he wanted to do so, this option wasn't probably going to work. The next up was exorcism, but again, who would answer at half past four in the morning?

Then there was the third bullet-point.

"Would it help if I cleaned the house?" Haga asked.

"It would help, but not with sending me back to where I came from," Set answered.

"Well, it's worth a shot," Haga said, closing the laptop.

* * *

Haga didn't much care for cleaning. In fact he never cleaned if he didn't really have to, and for weeks afterwards he would have trouble finding anything from his place because they weren't were he had left them, usually in a pile of other random stuff.

Set had taken a seat on Haga's desk and was watching as Haga wandered around the room picking dirty clothes from where Set had thrown them and putting them into a plastic bag. Haga had not yet asked him to help, even if Set could touch physical objects.

Haga had told him to sit tight, and tell him immediately if he started to feel like he was being returned back to his own time. Set had no idea how this would feel like.

If magic had brought him here to learn something it certainly was failing. And if this was some sort of punishment from a god Set would appreciate that someone would have even told him what he had done. This was mostly boring, and Haga didn't look like he was appreciating this haunting any more than Set.

After having picked the laundry and dumping them next to the washing machine in the bathroom, he returned and started trying to arrange his books and papers into the bookshelf. There was of course the problem that the amount of books Haga had acquired since the last time the bookshelf had been in good conditionwas staggering, so there was a problem of fitting things in.

"Is this helping at all?" Haga asked, his glasses covered with dust, as he turned to peer at the figure of priest Set in his chair who was only blurry because he was looking over his glasses.

"No, I don't think it is," Set said.

Haga dropped a pile of articles in his arms on the floor, which they met with an audible thud and few papers escaping the pile and scattering across the floor. He took off his glasses and started to wipe the dust off them to the hem of his shirt.

After he had regained his vision, Haga returned to the bed room and soon came back with candles. He formed a small circle with them around Set's sitting place. Set watched as Haga frowned at his palm which had words scribbled upon it, already smudged by sweat.

It was a chant of some sort, though frequently it was broken up by Haga going "um" and "wait a second". After Haga was done with it he gave Set a hopeful look. Set shook his head.

Haga disappeared again. Set heard him rummaging in another room. He came back with a cabbage.

"I don't have herbs," Haga answered, and then proceeded to burn the cabbage. Only thing it caused was making Haga's house smell like burnt cabbage.

Haga threw the cabbage away, walked to his desk and hopped a bit so he could sit on top of it, next to Set.

"Sucks," he said after a while.

"Is that all you have to say?" Set asked. "I might be stuck in here forever."

"Yup. You might need to explain that to the next tenants. Or maybe you could start a routine, make this a real haunted house. Turn over few bookcases and like."

"Would you like me to turn over your bookcase?" Set asked, sarcasm barely contained.

"No point in that, I know it's you," Haga answered.

They sat in defeated silence for a while. It was clear that both of them were quite at loss with the situation and didn't like it one bit.

One of the piles of paper, books and occasional sock that Haga had cleaned away had revealed quite a large curtainless window. From there, they could see the desert and the night, although the night was turning much lighter by the minute.

"I will go get that exorcist once the sun comes up," Haga said.

"I appreciate the concern," Set said dryly.

"And if it doesn't work I suppose we can invent something to do for you," Haga hesitated. "I'm not much of a teacher."

"I am a priest, not an insect expert."

"And I'm an insect expert, not a priest. Not much use for your kind in these days. Unless other people can see you as well, in which case I might have proved that ghosts exist. Not what I set out to do."

Set snorted.

"You sound like you'd be disappointed by that."

"I am here to discover a new kind of beetle," Haga answered. "I don't want to be the ghost guy. Bug guy is enough."

"If it's any consolation I did not set out to become some kind of a discovery in distant future," Set answered, almost politely.

The sun was creeping up behind the dunes, turning them to brightest gold.

"If I were at home, right now I would be getting up to go to the temple to pray," Set said, sounding out of time and lost.

"And if you weren't here right now," Haga said. "I would be sound asleep at bed and would be so for many hours more."

This was starting to sound like a bad horror comedy by the moment. The scientist and the ancient priest, roommates. Maybe the exorcism would work. Haga stuck his hands inside his pockets as he watched the sun coming up. His fingers touched something metallic. He pulled at it, bringing forth the scarab necklace he had been holding when the knock had come, when this weird person from past had appeared in his house.

The scarab caught the sun coming through the window and the old copper shone with a new light.

In these kind of stories there was always something to learn. Hauntings didn't happen by accident. Either there was a wrong to be avenged, but Haga had not wronged Set, in fact Set had not been wronged at all. So there had to be something else, there had to be something to do.

There had to be something to learn in stories like this.

But Haga had already said that there was nothing for him to learn from Set. Perhaps there was something he was supposed to teach this man. But what could it be? He had nothing to share. He did have an impressive collection of bug facts, but he doubted that Haga telling him about chemical trails ants left to get back to food they found would help anyone at this point.

So this was how they were stuck. Maybe this was a divine being's choice of bringing two people together.

"Is there anything you could teach me?" Haga asked. "Any grand insight into life you could share?"

Set looked amused for a moment.

"I don't think my life's concerns are very close to yours," he said. "I am not the teaching sort. Besides, I think you might be older than me."

"Really?"

"At the moment, yes."

"This is not a situation I find myself very often," Haga said.

"Me neither, but do share your wisdom."

"Never eat yellow snow?" Haga suggested.

"I don't know what snow is, but I'll make sure to follow your words carefully," Set said.

Haga sighed, rubbed a hand over his eyes. He was getting really tired, really sleepy. And the ghost was still there.

"When you next come across a person with an insect-soul, maybe consider they have more strength than you can imagine."

"I mostly only meet criminals," Set admitted.

"And take their souls... That is very villain-y of you. Maybe consider stopping that."

"They are our army, our only salvation against invaders."

"You will get invaded anyway. Not during your lifetime, but that will happen," Haga said.

"What a sad thought. We assumed we'd last forever."

"Of course you would. Everyone does."

The silence that followed was positively depressed. The sun had been creeping along the floor as they were speaking, and its first rays now touched Set's foot, only for it to disappear with the touch.

"All we had to was wait?" Haga screeched.

"It seems so," Set said. "I hope this means I'm going back and not disappearing."

"So you're leaving now?"

"Yes."

"Good, I really need to get to bed."

Set hesitated, watching his foot disappear. Of course there was no indication that he would actually go back. It didn't feel like anything at the moment. He turned to Haga, who was watching the sun eat away at Set's foot intensely.

"You have been," Set paused. A good host was giving perhaps too much credit to this strange man who had been doing nothing at first and then intensely had tried to get him away. "I thank you for at least trying to help."

"You don't mean that," Haga said. A cold smile graced Set's lips.

"Just trying to be polite."

They stared at each other for a while. Smiles playing on both of their lips, but not particularly warm ones.

"We usually just shake hands in these times," Haga muttered. And then he actually reached out his hand, the one which had the scarab pendant upon it, because even if Set couldn't touch Haga, he could touch the necklace. Set took the hand, looking a bit miffed. Haga shook the hand that was at least partially going through his own, the necklace slid down and into the wrist of Set.

"Keep it," Haga said. "It would be interesting to see if it goes with you."

"Interesting indeed," Set said. The sun had reached the knee of his other leg and was burning holes to the other leg as well. With last effort Set took hold of the arms of the chair and stood up into the light.

His form was for a moment completely taken by light, and then it disappeared. Haga glared at the emptiness for a moment but nothing else seemed to be happening.

"And don't you come back," he muttered to himself, as he dropped down from the desk and started to make his way to his bedroom, hoping he would not remember this once he woke up.

* * *

Set woke up with a start. His chambers in the palace were still dark, the night had not yet given in to the arriving day, though for many their slumber broke before the sun came up. For a high priest this was a perfectly appropriate time to wake up, seeing that the temples needed a lot of attention, especially during such an uncertain time as the world gently fell from the night to the arms of the light. At least if gods so willed.

Set had always been an early riser, even among the priesthood, preferring those moments before everyone else had woken, where he could dedicate himself to his task, to his duty, without having to worry about how other people were doing. Set usually slept light, but for some reason, this night his slumber had been deep. Perhaps it had been something he had eaten.

Because of this, his body felt heavy as he forced it out of the bed. His thoughts were muddled, trying to grasp into memories and differentiate them from fancy. Few brief flashes of images passed his mind, fragments of a dream, nothing more. Images of a man, but no words.

When Set approached his dressing table, he realized that his right hand was clenched into a fist and against his palm there was something metallic. He opened his hand, and gazed at the small scarab pendant worn by time against his palm.

Perhaps it had not been a dream then. He might need to consult Ishizu about it, for she could see the future and the past, and if there was a meaning to be taken out of it, she would surely be the one to see it. But that had to wait. Set had to go to his temple, and Ishizu had her own rituals, being the head priestess.

Set sat down upon his dressing table, absent-mindedly touching the pendant as he set out to make himself look presentable for the day.

A movement caught his eye, as he was just about to leave. It was a small maggot, making its way across the table. Normally Set would have crushed the thing, and not thought about it twice. But now he took a moment to study it. It was not a very beautiful creature, a plump body of grayish brown with few hairs sticking out every now and then, and no discernible face. An ugly creature. It probably normally lived in the food storage houses of the palace. How it had come this far, Set couldn't say.

He sighed to himself, and his own ridiculousness, before scooping the maggot up from the table. The maggot curled by the touch, laying completely still in a spiral shape on Set's palm as he exited the room.

Luckily no one saw him as he made his way through the palace, his hand held out in front of him, stiffly, though slightly cupped so that the maggot wouldn't fall off.

The palace had a small garden of sorts, near the waterside. There was a pond with lotus flowers and few birds, curiously looking at Set as he entered. Some herbs and flowers grew in the garden. There wasn't much to grow in a place such as Egypt, but the servants did their best as the Pharaoh enjoyed the solace of the place immensely.

Set knelt in front of a patch of flowers growing out of the wet muck that the Nile produced every flooding season. He placed the maggot on one of the flowers. It stayed still in the spiral shape for a moment longer, before deciding that the danger had passed, uncurling itself and starting to wobble through its new environment.

It was hard to tell if this had been any kind of an improvement over Set's own room. But it has seemed like a thing to do at the moment.

Set straightened himself, and looked around to make sure no one had seen him. The sun was just creeping past the dunes of the desert, coloring them gold and dancing upon the surface of the Nile. Set turned his back to it as he hurried back inside the palace and back towards his temple. It was time for the morning prayer.

* * *

 _A/N: I like to believe that this is a first meeting in a series of accidental and very annoying hauntings centering these two. They become friends eventually, because they are stuck together by cosmic forces._

 _Also there actually is a WikiHow on getting rid of ghosts. So that's that._


End file.
